ESO Fanfiction Chapter One
by VideoGameGuy99
Summary: Derrin is a Breton who lives in High Rock. He desperately wants to join the Daggerfall Covenant, but after his older son's death, Derrin's father has forbidden him from joining. Derrin finally rebels and joins the Covenant under his father's nose, and it becomes the biggest adventure of his life.


_Hello, fellow gamers! My name is VideoGameGuy99, but I prefer the ordinary name I use, Doom._

_This fanfiction is an Elder Scrolls Online one, unlike most of the other Elder Scrolls fanfictions, which are Skyrim. I have put a lot of time and patience into this one, and I really hope you like it._

_I would like to thank my editor, Mistress of Modern Mythology, for helping me so much along the way. I always accept reviews, I really love getting them. And keep in mind, this is the FIRST fanfiction that I have posted on this sight, so don't hate on me too much._

_This story is rated T._

_Finally, and I really feel like I don't need to say this, I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING CONCERNING THE ELDER SCROLLS FRANCHISE. Thank you and have a good day._

"For the last time, no," Derrin's father said in a firm, unmoving voice.

"But why?" Derrin pleaded, "I'm old enough to enlist, and I want to fight for the Covenant. I can do it, pa!"

"No, Derrin, I haven't focused my life on raising you to be peaceful just so you can fight this stupid war!"

"But…"

"No more buts, we are not talking about this anymore." Derrin's father stomped off. Derrin sighed and went back outside and into the woods. As he walked, he thought about why his father wouldn't let him join the Daggerfall Covenant. He's just being overprotective. All dads are, Derrin thought to himself. Derrin, like the rest of his family, were Bretons living in Dwynnen City. Derrin lived with his father, Neketar, who had lost much, including his wife, his parents, his siblings, and recently his other, older son Rikit, who had enlisted for the Daggerfall Covenant less than a month ago.

There was a war going on. Three rival groups, the Ebonheart Pact, the Aldmeri Dominion, and the Daggerfall Covenant were all fighting to take control of Cyrodiil, the capitol of the continent of Tamriel, each for their own reasons. The Aldmeri Dominion, since they built the capitol, believed that it was truly their property and deserved to rule. The Daggerfall Covenant sees them as unfit to rule, and want to establish peace throughout the region. The Ebonheart Pact seems more focused on the rumor of Daedra about to take over, but are still intent on keeping control. The Aldmeri Dominion contains the High Elves, Wood Elves, and the Kajhiit, the race of cat people from Elswyr. The Ebonheart Pact consists of the Nords, Dark Elves, and Argonians: the lizard men of Black Marsh. We, the Daggerfall Covenant, under rule of High King Emeric, have the Bretons, Orcs, and Redguard in our ranks.

Hundreds of thousands of men and women joined each side, but Derrin's father demanded that he not join. His family was a group of woodcutters, suppliers of raw material to the army. When Derrin said that he wanted to help the army, his father told him, "Son, by chopping wood and shipping it to the soldiers, we give them a chance to build a place to defend themselves, and have a warm place to sleep. Isn't that good enough?" Derrin agreed, but his need to make a greater impact did not.

So he set himself up a tiny little spot in the woods where he would train with his woodcutter's axe as a weapon. He would hack and slash at his targets whenever he could, and it improved his strength. He hoped that one day he could sneak out and train himself. Derrin also trained his magic ability. His father said that magic was dangerous and was not to be used by irresponsible young men. But Derrin was careful, and practiced making a small flame in his hand and moving it around. He had enough physical strength, almost enough magic, but he lacked the skill needed to be a full on fighter. That's when he decided that the only way that he was going to learn, would be to learn from his trainers. The time had come to go sign up. The problem was, he needed his guardian's signature. But Derrin had a plan. He walked up to his father one day, and said, "Father, I need you to sign this,"

"What for?" his father asked curiously.

"There was a guard who told me that I needed a signature to wander the streets by myself."

"Why haven't they told me this before?"

"I don't know. The guard asked me my age, and he said that I need a guardian's signature to walk the streets unattended."

"Fine. Get me a quill." And so Neketar put his signature on the slip of paper. Derrin stuffed the paper in his pocket and walked out. He felt a sense of joy, but in the reaches of his mind, he felt a guilt starting consuming him. Derrin wondered how his father would feel when he found out that he enlisted under his nose. He put that thought aside. The day that he would enlist was only a few weeks away, and he still had work to do. So he did it. Without a word he obeyed his father to the letter. Derrin even lessened on his training a bit.

But the time had finally come to join the Daggerfall Covenant. Instead of going to the forest like usual, Derrin ran to the enlistment line and waited for about fifteen minutes before reaching the front. He was greeted by a rough-looking Redguard who was holding a long scroll in his hands. "Name?" he asked.

"Oh… um… I… It's… Derrin… sir… Derrin Alentan," Derrin stuttered.

"Age" The Redguard asked.

"Um, nineteen years since birth, sir."

"Signature?"

"Here," Derrin replied rather quickly, and handed the paper to the man.

"You qualify," He stated emotionlessly, "Get in the carriage, we're departing in about ten minutes to take you to your training grounds. Welcome to the Daggerfall Covenant."

Derrin squeezed into the back of the carriage, and was bumped by someone. "Oh, s-sorry…" the young man said. He was short, around a year younger than Derrin was. He was Breton, like most of the people on the carriage. He had scraggly blonde hair, dirt on his face, and was wearing dirty student's robes. He stuttered whenever he spoke, and tended to slouch when standing. "S-sorry, there's n-not much room h-here," he apologized again.

"No, it's okay," Derrin said plainly. They remained silent for some time, "So why did you sign up?" Derrin asked.

"W-well, my ma always s-said that I should try new th-things, and lately my d-da says that I need to g-grow a backbone, so…"

"I wanted to sign up, but my father wouldn't let me. My older brother did, so I had to trick my dad to sign the paper and enlist behind his back. I feel really bad-" Derrin was suddenly cut off by the sight of his father walking across the street with a huge log on his shoulder. He turned for a moment, and then suddenly dropped the log when he saw his son on the carriage. Derrin froze. He didn't know what to do. Then, the carriage driver got his horses into gear, and the carriage started moving. Neketar could only watch in astonishment as the carriage moved off to the training grounds. Derrin watched as his father became smaller and smaller in the distance, until he was only a speck, and then gone.

Derrin didn't speak for a long time. He felt that guilt start to eat him alive. He put that thought aside and thought about what training would be like. He thought it would be like an adventure. After about half of an hour the younger boy said, "B-by the way, my n-name's Aaron. P-pleased to meet you." Derrin snapped out of his phase and answered back, "Derrin. Nice to meet you, too." They both smiled. The two would become close friends during training. They conversed for the entirety of the trip to the training area, which took at least a week. They frequently stopped to eat, sleep, and go to the bathroom, etcetera. The trip was rough, due to long rides over mountains, attacks from wolves, and at one point, a bandit tried to rob them.

But eventually they reached their destination; Stros M'kai. The area was a half-deserted, half-tropical city where the training grounds were held. The group arrived at night, so they were to rest at the inn. The future-soldiers were thankful to have a warm bed for once. They rested well that night. But they were given a very alarming awakening. Early in the morning, an Orc warrior silently walked into their room and woke up one of the trainees.

"Did you have a good sleep?" he said soothingly. The young trainee smiled and nodded sleepily before he almost closed his eyes. "WELL IT'S THE LAST GOOD SLEEP YOU'LL EVER GET IN YOUR ENTIRE WORTHLESS LIFE YOU BOOT-LICKING MILK-DRINKER!" The Orc suddenly shouted. This woke up all of the trainees and startled them from their pleasant dreams. Derrin fell out of his bed in astonishment. Aaron immediately got out of bed and stood straight up in half- attention, half-scared to death. "I WANT TO SEE YOU MAGOTS IN A STRAIGHT LINE, SHORTEST TO TALLEST! NOW!" Each trainee lined themselves up in a neat orderly line. A few were still half-asleep, and the Orc had to scream at them to get their attention.

"My name," the Orc said, "is Baktan. I'd like to welcome you to my own plain of Oblivion. It's called the training ground, and this is where you're going to train at every day, for eighteen hours of the day, until you are all accepted into the Daggerfall Covenant in four years. I am going to be the trainer of the men, and the Redguard Anik'tr is going to be training the girls. If anyone wants to quit, that's your choice. But don't expect to be getting a ride home; except for today. Today, there is a carriage that is going to be taking more trainees from Dwynnen City. If anyone wants to quit, then GET YOUR SORRY SELVES OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!" Two or three of the trainees ran out of the room. Aaron was trembling, but he stood his ground. Derrin felt the urge to go with them, but he gulped down that feeling and stood where he was. He couldn't face his father again.

"Alright," Baktan said, looking down on all of the other trainees. "You have the guts to face the worst years in your life, but do you have what it takes? Today I will be evaluating your skills, and seeing what you can do. I will give you a recommendation for what kind of soldier you should be, but the decision is entirely up to you. NOW LET'S MOVE MAGOTS!" All of the trainees followed Baktan in a neat, terrified line. They walked for about a mile before reaching their destination. Derrin looked over the area.

It was a huge, circular, sand-covered pit. All around the pit was and variety of equipment, including weapons, armor, training dummies, rations, maps, siege weapon parts, and so much more. People were already training, but they look like they had much more experience. They had scars, muscles, and hardened looks. When they struck their target, they did it with both precision and strength. One of them even had an eye patch. "VETERANS!" Baktan shouted. The men turned and started towards the group. "These," Baktan said, "are our new recruits. You are going to be our role models for today."

"They don't look like much," one of the men said with a smirk. His face was covered in scars, and he had a permanent scowl glued to his complexion.

"Neither did you when you came crawling down here, Malan," Baktan said with a smirk. A few of the trainees snickered. Aaron and Derrin were to stricken with fear of these men to even grin. Malan scowled. Baktan ignored him. "Trainees, these are some of our finest soldiers," he said with pride, "This," indicating one of the men, "is Al'tan. He is from Hammerfell and chose the Nightblade class. When he strikes you, you won't know what hit you, whether it be an arrow in your back or a dagger in your throat."

Al'tan was a Redguard, and, unlike the others, didnt seem to have any injuries. Derrin assumed that it was because he was never seen. Al'tan was like a shadow. He suddenly pulled out his daggers and put it against one of the trainee's throats before he even had time to react. The trainee was paralyzed with fear. Al'tan pulled the dagger away and the trainee passed out.

Baktan sighed, and said, "Next we have Brenier, who chooses the Templar class. Whether you need a warrior or a healer, Brenier is your man." Brenier was covered head to toe in steel armor. Even his helmet covered his face. All that could be told of him is that he was big. He had a big build, a big position, and, especially, a big weapon. Brenier slowly pulled out the huge long sword strapped to his back. He held it in his one hand, raised it up and brought it down upon one of the trainees. The tip of the blade rested on the ground. The trainee wasn't breathing. A very small red line appeared on his face. It was clear that Brenier made the shallowest cut he could. He put his long sword back into its sheath, and knelt down next to the frightened trainee. Brenier put his hand up to the small cut, a bright red light flashing from his hand. When he pulled it away, the cut was gone. The crowd gasped. Baktan wasn't fazed.

"Next up on the list, we have Menran, probably the most experienced in magic here. He has chosen the Sorcerer class, accordingly." He nods towards Menran, a Breton wearing light and dull robes. He was very old, bald, and had a face covered in laugh lines. He looked like a very happy person, because he was smiling even then. He pulled out a long, oak wood staff with a curious looking gem at the top. He raised it up, and the gem glowed a bright purple, before he slammed it down onto the ground and pillars of fire, lightning and frost shot up from the earth. The trainees scattered and screamed, and a couple more passed out.

"Alright, alright, we get the point!" Baktan shouted. The Sorcerer sheathed his staff, and the pillars died down, although burn marks and huge shards of ice remained. The few trainees that were still standing were trembling with fear. Baktan looked displeased. "Oh come on! Nearly half of you can't even take a little action. For the few of you who are still in standing position, the final class is the Dragon Knight, the masters of the Akaviri martial arts and the users of powerful magic. This is the more difficult class to master. Malan here has chosen the Dragon Knight class, and now he is one of our most skilled warriors. Malan," he gestured for Malan to show his abilities.

"You," he pointed to Derrin. "Get over here."

"Um…" Derrin said, unsure of what to do.

"I said," Malan repeated, "GET OVER HERE!" Suddenly a chain whipped out of his gauntlet and wrapped around Derrin. Malan suddenly pulled on the chain, Derrin being pulled into the sand.

"D-Derrin!" Aaron exclaimed, looking like he was about to run in there and help him. Baktan stopped him.

"Let Malan show what he can do." The chain unwrapped around Derrin, and that's when he felt the pain. As the chain slipped back into Malan's gauntlet, Derrin noticed the chain was glowing bright orange, and even at a couple feet away he could feel the heat emanating off of those chains. Less than a second later Derrin felt those chains wrapped around him again, but with a burning sensation. He screamed in agony. Aaron couldn't watch. After about 15 seconds Derrin stopped and tried to get up. Malan smirked. He walked over to a weapon rack and pulled a one-handed axe off. He threw it to Derrin and said, "Let's see how strong you are, milk drinker."

"Urk…" Derrin grunted and pulled the axe off the ground. A rage seethed inside him.

"Let's see you try to block this," Malan said, smiling a terrifying smile. He walked up to Derrin and raised his sword up, bringing it down so fast Derrin could hardly react. He swerved out of the way just in time, but the sword sliced down his arm. He was bleeding, and the sight of his own blood enraged him. Malan raised it again, a crazed look in his eye. Derrin glared right back, any fear in his mind set aside. _I'll wipe that grin right off your face, _Derrin thought with anger. _I'm going to kill you!_

Malan swung the sword down once more. But instead of the slicing of flesh he was used to, a solid object obstructed the path of his blade. Derrin held his axe strongly in two hands, keeping the blade at bay. With a rush of strength, he pushed his axe forward, knocking a surprised Malan to the ground. The crowd of trainees gasped. Baktan smiled, impressed.

"Why you-" Malan pulled out the fiery chain again but Baktan said, "Oh come now, Malan, you beaten him enough. I guess you two are even now." Malan glared at Derrin. Derrin turned and walked towards Aaron.

"That was a-amazing!" he said with glee. "H-How did you-"

"Not now Aaron," Derrin said with a smile and a wince, "I am a little beat up right now."

"O-Oh yeah," Aaron said, "You should g-get yourself to the infirmary and-"

"Baktan," Derrin called, his adrenaline levels still extremely high.

"That's Baktan, sir," Baktan replied.

"Yes sir, um, is it ok if I just get some bandages and then come back to training?" he answered, the adrenaline rush receding quickly.

"That was what I was planning for you, so yes, of course you can." Baktan sent Derrin over to the infirmary for some light bandages, and he was sent right back to the training grounds. For the rest of the day, he and the rest of the trainees spent the rest of the day evaluating their skills. Some trainees had light feet and quick hands, others had exemplary skills in magic, and many were born warriors. It was found that Derrin had a tendency to get angry when he or fellow friends are endangered. Aaron was discovered to be incredibly smart, knowledgeable of history, and had an incredibly strong connection to magic. Menran even walked up to him at one point.

"Um, h-hello, s-sir…" Aaron started.

"Oh, don't be so formal, child," Menran smiled as he said. "Um, y-yes sir, um, I-I m-mean Menran," Aaron said timidly.

"You know," Menran said, "I can give you a bit of extra training if you like."

"Oh, y-yes p-please, th-thank you s-sir!" Menran smiled. "Then meet me after dinner every Mourndas, and I can show you a thing or two." Aaron was so happy that he could barely stand still for the rest of the day.

After that, Derrin tested out every weapon that was available to him, but none suited him more than the same war axe he used against Malan. It felt perfectly weighted, and the way it rushed against the wind just felt… right.

The next week would be all evaluating, looking at all of the trainees' skills and abilities. The day after that week would be the day to decide which class each trainee would choose. Throughout the week, Baktan showed the trainees no mercy. He pushed them to their limits, to the brink of exhaustion, and, especially, pushed a few of them to pass out on many occasions. He put them through exercises, lectures, and other brutal means of training. About 20 of the 150 trainees would rather walk all the way home than have to go through four more years of that.

Derrin and Aaron pushed through the week until the day they were to choose. Derrin thought about it all the time, when they were sleeping, when they were training, when they were eating… _I have a knack for magic_… Derrin thought to himself before bed one night, _I'm not very good with my hands or feet, plus I am a fighter, not a healer. I could be a Templar, but then my magic skills would be put to waste. And I can't put_ _out my skill with that axe, so that would leave me with…_

Derrin had made his decision for the choosing. On that day, the trainees were to show up to the training grounds that night, and every trainee would choose their class, in alphabetical order. That meant that Aaron was the second one to go. That night at dinner, everyone was cheering and celebrating because they got through the week, Derrin and Aaron included. People sang songs, drank ale, and discussed what class they would pick. Even Baktan led one of the songs, and people laughed and sung along. At one point, the veterans came in to see the trainees before they chose their class.

Menran walked up to Aaron and they got into a heated discussion about the different spells that could be learned. Al'tan was showing the trainees how many ale bottles he could balance on the tip of his dagger. Brenier sat at one of the tables, silently. Derrin asked Menran about him.

"Well," he recalled, "he used to be the most innocent little boy anyone has ever seen. When the war started, his father signed him up, thinking that he would help raise the spirits of the soldiers. Well, at one point, he was caught chasing a skeever into Baktan's sleeping quarters. You can imagine how that turned out. And for the next four years, Baktan gave him the worst of it. Brenier was pushed to do more exercise, more was expected of him in classes, and he became accustomed to it. When Baktan pushed him harder, he worked harder. But at one point, Baktan went too far. He wanted him to be 'experienced', so he sent Brenier into one of the battles in enemy territory. The Aldmeri Dominion destroyed them. Brenier almost didn't make it back alive. He was covered in injuries. We patched him up as best we could, but there were still tons of battle scars that couldn't be healed. Ever since then he hasn't spoken. He covered himself in armor so people couldn't see his failure. Baktan made him a strong, durable warrior, but it was at a cost. His father would not have wanted to see him like this." Menran finished with a sigh. "Brenier and I were good friends before that. Now, he won't speak to anyone. The horrors of this war has sealed his lips, is what I believe."

"Is Baktan like that to everyone?" Derrin asked. Menran smiled again.

"He will not give you any mercy. He will put you through Oblivion and back if that's what it takes to make you a good soldier." His smile suddenly disappeared. "What do you want, Malan?" Suddenly Malan stepped out of the shadows.

"Hmph. So you saw me? You always were one to see through darkness. Nice little story by the way. Very touching," he ended with a sarcastic note.

"You didn't do much to help him, or anyone else in the gods-forsaken camp."

"You're making it sound a lot worse than it was, Menran."

"Am I now? What of the mocking, the pretentiousness, the need to be better than anyone else, even if it meant getting physical?" Malan scowled with rage. Derrin and Aaron attempted to stay out of it, but eventually they were put on the spot. "You two," Malan said accusingly, "do you believe any of these lies?" Aaron turned into a stuttering mess.

"W-well I-I d-don't th-think th-that h-he's wr-wrong b-b-but…" He spoke so fast that Malan didn't understand a word he said and quickly held a hand up to silence him. "What about you, axeman," Malan asked, "What is your input?" Derrin remained silent. The image of that red-hot chain kept appearing his mind. A drop of sweat ran from his brow.

Menran suddenly interjected, "Come now, Malan, you are intimidating the poor boys! They're supposed to be celebrating, not be stared down by an Akaviri warrior with a fiery chain!" Malan scowled his hideous scowl, then started to walk away.

"Derrin, was it?" he asked of the nervous boy, "this won't be the end, you hear me?" He walked out of the tavern. Derrin and Aaron looked at each other with fear.

"Oh don't worry about him," Menran said with another smile, "Baktan won't let him hurt you TOO much," Derrin and Aaron forced a laugh. For the rest of the celebration, the two spoke with the veterans, asking for advice and about what training was like.

"You want my opinion?" Al'tan asked, "Do what your told. Do what you're told right, the less you mess up the less Baktan yells at you," he finished with a grin. At one point the pair walked up to Brenier.

"Um… sir?" Derrin said with uncertainty, "Menran told us about your story and…" Brenier put his head down. "S-Sir…" Aaron stuttered. Brenier looked up. Though he was wearing so much armor you couldn't even see his eyes, Brenier looked empty and sad, like a hollow shell without a soul. "M-My mum always said that you will have set backs in life. A-And I should know, back in my hometown, I was always put down by other people. B-But my mum also said that putting your head down and giving up is not the way to go. A-And neither is hiding behind a set of armor. Th-There is no reason to be ashamed. Just surviving that battle is something to be proud of. I-I look up to people like you. So don't be sad, Brenier, sir, be happy for what you have."

Brenier looked at him still with those hollow eyes. He said nothing. Derrin couldn't believe what he witnessed. It surprised Derrin not only to hear those words from Aaron's mouth, but there was a way he said them. It actually took a second for Derrin to realize it: his stutter was almost completely gone, and at the end it WAS gone. Derrin started to get suspicious. He would have thought more about it, but Baktan started speaking.

"Alright," he started, slightly slurred due to a bit much alcohol, "This has been a fun little celebration, but it is time for the choosing. Follow me in an orderly line to the training grounds, where you will choose your class."

Derrin and Aaron got in line and they walked to the training grounds, the veterans, excluding Malan, who followed close behind. As they walked, the trainees chattered excitedly about which class they were going to choose. Derrin and Aaron talked more about the veterans. When the group finally reached the training grounds, they saw that the place was surrounded with torches, and Baktan told them to stand in a large circle. He stood in the middle, and gave his introductory speech. He told the group that they have persevered through the hardships of training, and they had been strong enough to hold their ground. But this was just the beginning. They would have to deal with four more long years of the hardships that they barely survived a week of.

"But that is in the future," Baktan said, "and this is now. It is time for you to choose your class. When I call your name, I want you to stand next to me. I will ask if anyone would speak for you, and then you will announce your choice. Rinse and repeat until we are all finished. Now we begin with… A'Albian, Redguard." The boy walked up nervously to the center. Derrin remembered how confidently he spoke when he was telling his friends about his class, but now he could barely stand; his knees were buckling so much.

"Would anyone speak for this young man?" Baktan called. One of his friends did, and he spoke of how great A'Albian would do. The boy in the center smiled, and he didn't seem so nervous anymore. Baktan nodded. "Now, what will your class be?" A'Albian said with confidence, "I choose the Sorcerer class, sir." The crowd cheered, and A'Albian sighed of relief. He walked back into the circle to join his friends. Baktan continued, "Next up we have… Aaron Mathmer." Aaron gulped.

He slowly walked towards the center, and Derrin swore that he was going to throw up. Aaron made it to the center, and Baktan looked at him with pity, most likely because he looked as pale as the moon. Baktan said anyway, "Is there anyone who will speak with this young man?"

"I shall," Menran said from the back. The crowd parted to let him through, and he spoke, "Aaron, you are a talented young lad. You are smart, brave, and completely willing to learn, all of which are traits needed by a Sorcerer. What makes you stand out is that you listen to every word, every phrase, and every sentence. Outside, you may look like a stuttering young boy, but I know who you really are." For a second, Aaron turned even paler than before. "A clever, creative, brilliant young man," Menran finished. Aaron regained a bit of his color, which made Derrin even more suspicious. He suspected it had something to do with when Menran said he knew what he really was. Aaron smiled and Menran stepped back.

"Anyone else?" Baktan called out. Derrin was about to speak, but he heard a voice behind him say, "I speak for the boy as well." All heads turned, but no one recognized the voice, except Baktan, whose expression turned to shock.

Brenier parted the crowd and stood in front of it. Aaron's expression was similar to Baktan's. Derrin looked up at the large man with awe as he spoke, "You are going to be a strong warrior. Your morals will win wars, your smarts destroy armies, and your skills eliminate your enemies. You are right. It is no shame to survive. You showed me that, and for that, I raise my sword in your name." Brenier pulled the long sword from his back, and raised it high into the air. The crowd was silent. Aaron glowed with happiness. Derrin was speechless. If Aaron was incredible enough to get a fallen warrior back on his feet, then what else could he do?

The crowd remained frozen for five minutes or so, and that was five minutes Brenier held his sword up high. Finally Menran broke the silence: "Well are we going to continue or not?" Baktan was so dumbfounded that he didn't answer right away.

"U-Um I-I...Yes! Which class do you choose, trainee?" He called out a name and the boy, still in shock of the recent events, didn't hear. Baktan shouted the name again and he walked up. Brenier sheathed his sword and walked to the back. No one spoke for this boy, and he chose the Templar. Derrin also noticed that this boy was the one that Brenier used to show off his skills. Baktan listed more names, and Derrin sort of phased out. Aaron didn't speak the entire time, for he looked enveloped in his thoughts.

Everyone chose Templar, Sorcerer or Nightblade… but no one chose DragonKnight. Derrin just about fell asleep before he heard, "Next up, Derrin Alentan." He shook awake and started towards the center. His heart was pounding. Everyone was watching him. Was he going to choose the right class? A dozen different possibilities turned up about how his choice wouldn't work, but he put them in the back of his mind. He stood in the center right next to Baktan. He suddenly yelled, "Does anyone speak for this young man?"

"I do." Everyone turned to see Malan standing in the back. He pushed a couple people to the ground to get through the thick crowd. He grinned an evil grin, and Derrin's stomach burned. "I would just like to say, welcome to the worst years of your life, fresh blood," Malan said maliciously, "By the time you're done here you will be begging for your mother, no doubt. Welcome to Oblivion, milk drinker." Derrin's blood boiled with rage. He had half the mind to go up there and shoot a fire ball at him, but he put his rage to the side.

"You never were very good with people, were you Malan?" Baktan said with uncertainty. Malan smiled his sly grin again, and backed away behind the crowd. "Alright," Baktan said quickly, "What class do you choose, Derrin?"

Derrin thought about this for a long time. It kept him up at night; it clouded his mind when he was supposed to be focused. Derrin thought about it for so long, it felt like a curse. But now, in this moment, Derrin was never so sure of anything in his entire life. "I," Derrin said without a doubt, "choose the DragonKnight class, sir."

_Well, thank you for reading part one of my story. If you liked it, give me a review and follow me. There is more to come, I can assure you. Goodbye fellow gamers!_

_-Doom_


End file.
